I hadn't a clue myself, and neither did those answers.
To be honest, they just tumbled out of my blathering gob, this mouth of mine that simply won't stay shut. It was as if I was stamping out every question like an ant. Yeah, more precisely, like an ant about to bite me.
Pure reflex. Instinct.
Nothing from my brain.
Maybe it was just my survival instinct, which fear has castrated far too often.
"Well, I must say, you've got some brass neck, haven't you… answering like that."
Akuma's voice—casual yet pressing—was like a thin sheet of paper slipped between sword blades. Light, but it could cut you in two parts.
"So, you know the answer now, don't you, Midnight?"
THUMP!
Suddenly, that voice was like a whip lashing a vein. It smacked the side of my head hard—with a name no one was supposed to know. That strange feeling crept back. My anxiety felt like it had climbed right into my skull, biting like a faulty electric current.
A right mess. Burning. Trapped.
